Jorge held the badge loosely as he waited for the boy to ask his question. He really did like the boy, it was just tragic everything that he had to experience. No child should have gone through what he did, what the stories said he went through. Just the little snippet that Michael gave him made the detective’s heart swell with sympathy and a righteous anger to throw the man that did this into jail and throw away the key. No parent had the right to do anything like this to a child; there simply was no justifying it in any way imaginable.

But the detective did not say any of this out loud. Instead he did his best to keep his cool since he did not want to worry or cause the child to shrink away. He needed him to talk, which was why he remained silent and decided to go along with this game…

Jorge regarded Michael in silence as he waited for him to talk. Before long it seemed as if Mikey had finally came up with a question…

>> “P..police have..have families too. And probably have kids and…Do...do you have any of me?”

Head tilted curiously, Jorge watched the boy before he turned his attention back to the leggos (since he didn’t want to startle him with staring). At first he really did not understand the boy’s question. Any of him? He half thought about asking the boy to clarify what he had asked but Jorge did not want him to think that he did not know how to play his own game. So Jorge remained in silence as he tried to piece together exactly what he was asking him…

>> “And...and I’m a son. Like...like a boy.”

Click…Click…Click…

OH! In that second Jorge finally seemed to grasp what Mikey was asking him; about whether or not had he had any kids. He had to admit that it was a perfectly reasonable question to ask. He shook his head before he actually responded.

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t have kids of my own.” he said honestly. “I do have a couple of nieces, nephews, and other children that I do my best to help when they need me, though.” Quietly, once he made sure that that was the end of his answer, he handed the badge back to Michael. Only when the boy took it back did the detective finally open his mouth to talk. “Michael, after your father got mad, how long did you stay in your room?”

Michael listened to his response and nodded. He knew what he wanted to ask back, but the game said that he had to go next. He carefully took the badge from Jorge with his gloved hands, and fiddled with the item for a moment. He waited until Jorge’s question was asked, and then it seemed that everything stood still. Michael thought about the question for a moment, his heart pounding. How long had he been in his room after his father got mad at him? It would have been easier to ask how long he’d been able to be outside of the room.

Michael was scared...he closed his eyes and started to try and calm himself down, but he couldn’t stop the images from the room from coming back into his head. Michael took a few deep breaths, but the images kept coming.

Michael opened his eyes after he was thrown into the room, he was hurt all over with bruises worse than the ones he’d gotten at school that day. His father was upset...very upset. Michael had done something wrong. He hurt another kid...burned his back. That was something that wasn’t allowed. He screamed at Michael, he told Michael that everything was ruined. The child he adopted was nothing more than a monster. Michael could barely see out of his swollen eye...he couldn’t tell what was going on. It was just fear. Fear and chaos. The door was closed tightly on him...and then there was the click of a lock.

“I...It was my...I-It was my fault. I-I did s-something b-bad.”

His mother came in with food the next day. She didn’t comfort him or touch him...he could hear his father downstairs. She’d slipped in some games and things to play. Michael was crying...he wanted to get out of the room. It was his room, and he used to love it, but he wanted to go to school, he wanted to go outside and play. His eyes closed as she left...he didn’t touch the food that was left there.

“M...My mom brought me food sometimes...un-..until she left.” His eyes were closed, and it was obvious that he was having a hard time going through this subject with the man. His hands were shaking...but he was keeping control of himself and the mutation that he’d have to be wary of. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths.

It was the summer...everyone was playing on the beach. One little boy spotted Michael in his room. He asked Michael’s father if Michael could go out and play. The only response from his father: “My son passed away a few years ago...he’s no longer here. Go play on the beach, son.” And Michael wished that his father would call him a son again...he wished it so much that his chest hurt.

“I...I haven’t left in...in four years...o-or more. I...I couldn’t count.” Michael closed his eyes, trying to flush out all the hurts, but a small tear ran down the boy’s face. He couldn’t really continue at the moment, it was quite obvious. Though the boy was crying...he was silent. Utterly silent...internalizing everything that he’d never gotten to share.

>> “I...It was my...I-It was my fault. I-I did s-something b-bad…M...My mom brought me food sometimes...un-..until she left.”

Jorge frowned a little but tried to not get too emotional over the what he was listening to. Though the boy was talking only sparsely and not really speaking in too much detail, it was vivid enough for Jorge to just barely imagine it. And everything that Michael went through, it was absolutely nothing that he deserved.

The boy was hurt, it was evident in how he reacted to the world around him, but Jorge was not here to cure him of that (nor did he have the power to). What he could do, though, was bring the boy justice. And that was exactly what he intended to do.

He sighed a little but said nothing more as he glanced and saw the hurt look on the boy’s face. This was obviously something that he really did not want to talk about but he was managing to push himself to do so. Jorge had to admit that that took a lot of bravery for Michael. Not many children could express the things they went through, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much they wanted justice for them. For some, it was simply beyond their understanding.

Maybe Michael didn’t truly understand that what happened was not his fault but the detective would make sure to do everything in his power to remind the child that he did not need to accept that.

He cautioned another glance and the sight nearly broke his heart. He could see the tears welling up in the boy’s eyes but he was making no sounds or sniffling or anything that indicated that he was actually crying. No, instead, the boy was upset but apparently it did not have the outlet that he required. Jorge frowned again but he did not reach over to comfort the boy or say anything reassuring. Silence was his best option at the moment.

>> “I...I haven’t left in...in four years...o-or more. I...I couldn’t count.”

Four…years? The number was simply staggering for Jorge to believe. He would make sure to not forget that little number so that he could make sure to accurately report what the boy said. This was all just too horrendous and cruel for him to really comprehend of it. But still, he kept his cool. He’d nail that father to the wall though, if it took his last breath.

Carefully, once he was sure that the boy was composed enough, he handed the badge back to him. It was Mikey’s turn to ask the next question…

Stick to the game, Jorge...Stick to the game...

There were many things that Michael could appreciate deep down inside of him. Through the swimming notes of his past, and the dizzying effects they had on him, Michael could still appreciate that Jorge hadn’t yet tried to touch him. It wasn’t as though Michael wouldn’t ever let him touch the boy, but at the moment it would just cause a bit of a power outburst. Perhaps towards the end of this, when Michael was more calm, he would be able to at least give Jorge some form of a hug. It would make things a bit better, though the boy didn’t really have that experience in his memories.

He took the badge from the male, and then looked down it, his tears stopping their descent down his face as he calmed himself down again. He didn’t bother to wipe his face off after the crying had stopped, however , as the little boy didn’t see the worth in doing so. Michael didn’t want to say anything at all. Looking at the badge, the boy felt as though his throat had closed up, and no words were allowed to leave him. He nibbled a bit on his teddy-bear’s head, then looked at the badge again. What could he say? Really, what did he want to even know?

After a long, long pause, the boy thought up a question that would really help him, too. He wanted to know if this had only happened to him…if it was only something that he did that caused it, and other kids didn’t have to go through what Michael did. “Did…did anyone ever…hurt Mr. Police…policeman?” Having already forgotten that this policeman’s name was Jorge, he reverted to a good old third person reference to the male.

Such a question even got Michael to let go of the badge, letting himself clutch the bear tightly to himself. He nibbled on it again, slightly hungry. He didn’t have any snacks on his person at the moment, but he wanted to eat something, and was told that he should eat whenever his stomach growled. Most of the snacks he was given were high in carbohydrates, and had some kind of enhanced nutrient level in them. It was apparent he needed that, after all. On what seemed to be an impulse, the little boy buried his head into the plushy-head of the bear in his lap, kind of to tell himself to focus on the game, and not on his stomach.

Yes, another trick that the little boy had learned was that games were perfect ways to stop thinking about eating food. For instance, Michael could get absorbed in a game for a long time until he fell asleep, and then he’d avoid the pangs of hunger for that bit. It was simple, really. Just another method of distraction.

After a moment with his head buried in the bear, Michael lifted his head up a bit to stare towards the badge that he put on the ground just in front of himself and thought for a moment. Was it wise to let Jorge move his hand that close to Michael? He’d been close to Michael when handing off something, so it would be alright. He nibbled the bear again, stomach growling.

The badge was left in front of him and Jorge watched as the boy struggled to come up with another question. He was quickly beginning to realize exactly how hard this was for him. Maybe he should have just had a child psychologist work with the boy to get these question answered instead of coming to him himself. But, Jorge knew the mansion, and its residents, far better than any child psych would. He dealt, specially with mutant, he would know just a tad bit more about working with a mutant who had gone through such trauma than anyone else.

At least that is what he told himself as he worked with cases like Michael’s. The boy had gone through such terrible abuse. So far he was keeping him from completely breaking down and Jorge hoped that he could keep that up. He did not want to lose this boy to his memories.

Thankfully, though, the game continued as Michael, after some more struggling, finally managed to come up with a question to ask. Jorge was a patient man, he just didn’t want Michael to get further traumatized by having to remember everything that happened. But at least the attention was off of Michael again, just long enough for him to recuperate (or so he hoped).

>> “Did…did anyone ever…hurt Mr. Police…policeman?”

Jorge thought about Michael’s question for a minute. At first he was not sure exactly what Mikey was asking of him but slowly it dawned on him; he wanted to know if Jorge had gone through similar abuse. Had the boy known Jorge’s parents, the answer would have quickly been made apparent; it was a resounding ‘no’! The detective had loving, caring, parents as he grew up, who only wanted to give him everything that they didn’t have when growing up. On top of that, once his mutation developed, they were more than supportive.

No, Jorge didn’t have the kind of experiences that Michael had; but he had seen others go through just as bad…if not worse…

He shook his head as an initial answer.

“No, that didn’t happen to Mr. Police,” he responded. Then…he took a breath before he continued. “But Michael, I’ve seen…a lot of children go through similar experiences. You are not alone. And…it was none of their faults…just like what you went through isn’t your fault.” he tried his best to explain. “Sometimes…mommies and daddies, they can be wrong, and they can be bad. A lot of those times…it has nothing to do with the what a child has or hasn’t done. It’s sad but…it just happens.” He sighed as he glanced between the bear and boy before he adverted his gaze. Would he ever understand it was not his fault? Jorge had faith he would, but one glance at the scars and wounds he bore, and he knew it would be a long and difficult road…

Michael frowned a bit. So…so it hadn’t happened to the policeman. His initial thought was actually acceptance of that, as Jorge hadn’t displayed any mutation to him. If Jorge wasn’t a mutant, than obviously his father would be completely fine with him. Now, Michael wasn’t completely convinced by the rest of what Jorge said. Obviously he had to be at fault in a way, because he knew his dad was always kind to the other kids, but this policeman didn’t really know it. So, Michael decided that he wanted to know more about why Michael thought it was his fault. He took a breath and steeled himself, still holding onto the teddy bear.

“D…daddy wasn’t bad to other kids. Daddy liked other kids and he played with them and mommy did too. I…I..” He did take a paused. It was a lot to push out…the experiences he’d gone through were hurtful and scary, and it hurt to remember them too. Only this time, he wasn’t remembering a moment when he couldn’t stop his father from hitting him, this time he couldn’t stop his father from playing with the other younger kids outside.

His hands closed around the door handle and pulled it open. There was a new mother at the door with her young baby. It was a child that looked different from Michael of course…blonde hair with bright blue eyes, an adorable little visitor. The man held onto the little baby girl, and he seemed almost fatherly for a moment, and all Michael could do was stare down at the man, wanting nothing more than to be held like the caring father he saw down there. It dawned on him that his father liked kids…and other kids were okay with him, so what Michael did to get in the room was far worse than anything. And it got his father to not like him anymore. It was all his fault.

He nibbled on his bear’s head again and spoke softly. “Daddy held…daddy held the neighbor’s little girl really well…and she didn’t cry or nothing. She was pretty…and…and had cute blonde hair.” It was again, not the clearest way of saying it, but Michael was trying to tell him that it truly wasn’t that his father was a bad person. He didn’t believe that even if he disliked his father more than anything else in the world. It was himself that Michael was already trying to change…to cover up. He held onto the silvery hand by holding it through the glove that covered it.

Michael had hurt a kid at school…it was an accident because he’d gotten bullied and upset. Hurting other people…and letting his mutation run wild. That was why his father disliked him so much. Michael knew that he wouldn’t get his daddy to say he loved Michael again, because there wasn’t anything about Michael that he could love anymore, because Michael was different from the child that he wanted to raise up.

“I…I didn’t mean to make daddy not love me…but I did..a-and…and it wasn’t good.” His words were getting less coherent because he wasn’t thinking of the game anymore. He looked down towards the badge and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He shifted and took the badge, then moved a bit closer to Jorge, still holding the badge. He shifted a bit, the boy holding onto the police badge like a ward against everything evil. Things were hurting again, and it wasn’t making him very happy at all.

>> “D…daddy wasn’t bad to other kids. Daddy liked other kids and he played with them and mommy did too. I…I..”

The detective frowned. It was obvious that he was not trained enough to make the boy see differently than what he already thought about the situation. He was a boy who was trained to believe that he was the one who did wrong. Even though that could not be farther from the truth, there was nothing that Jorge could say that would help him. The damage was there and Jorge simply did not have the skills or training to help the boy move past it.

It was a sad occurrence, but, unfortunately, that is just what it was. Eventually the boy would get elp, Jorge knew that. He was already at a place that was most qualified to help him and he would be able to learn to control his mutation. It was only a matter of finding those people that could care enough for him to get him out of his shell.

>> “Daddy held…daddy held the neighbor’s little girl really well…and she didn’t cry or nothing. She was pretty…and…and had cute blonde hair. I…I didn’t mean to make daddy not love me…but I did..a-and…and it wasn’t good.”

Jorge looked in confusion as he tried to think about what Michael was saying. The kid had a round about way of explaining things so sometimes it required a thought or two for Jorge to make the connections. So, the father was nice to a new baby, a neighbor’s baby, and somehow that struck Michael as evidence of something; maybe that his father was not a bad man? After all, this whole conversation thus far had been about how his father was not bad, but Michael himself who caused the problems.

In a way he guessed that it made sense, in a child’s eyes. If he was nice to other kids, showed them affection and such, then obviously it must have been Michael who was at fault. Jorge did not believe that for a second. A truly kind man would never have given the bruises to Michael that the boy now held on his person.

The detective truly felt his heart breaking and wished that he could do more to change Michael’s mind. But so far none of his efforts were effective. But he could not lose faith. Who knows, maybe something would come up during their game that would help Michael at least see a glimmer of truth.

He was beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that Michael’s father not only abused him because he was just an abuser, but also because Michael happened to be a mutant (why else would Michael be here?).

The badge was shakily handed out to him and, gently, Jorge took it from the boy’s hand. He smiled in a friendly and thankful way to Michael as he took his badge back and wracked his brain to phrase the next question. It was obvious that the boy was a mutant...but did that play a factor in what happened to him?

He sighed as he slowed moved into his question.

"Michael," he started. "Did...most of this start...after you found out you were different? Like...after you developed an ability or power that you didn't have before?"

It was his turn to ask a question. His turn meant that he would remember more about things that made him feel all the pain again. Michael looked around and then shifted his body, slightly crawling his way closer to the edge of the blanket. It was an odd move. There did not seem to be any purpose to it whatsoever. He just wanted to be there now. Michael then touched the bears head a bit, and he then squeezed it tightly. This bear was his version of the “Man’s Best Friend” thing, and he had no real idea what having a puppy was like. True, it was an odd thing to even think that Michael had built up this kind of attachment, but if his life was looked at, it was quite understandable.

A child who lives in a dysfunctional family will often find things to hold onto. Whether it be toys or something else. In extreme cases, it was possible that they could even create alternate realities for themselves. Michael was a bit too down to earth for that, so he didn’t try to make his bear into his companion, and if someone asked he would only tell them that it was important because his father had given it to him. Or he might just mumble something about how they are only a stranger and should not talk with him. No, the bear had become a replacement for dog subconsciously. He had seen dogs run about on the beach out of his window, and knew that the dog was important to it’s owner. His bear was the only thing next to him at the moment, and that was what happened.

Therefore, he seemed to be stroking it, even petting the bear more. He waited for the question calmly, but he was not still. His hand was still petting the bear, and as the question came, he nibbled the bears ear more. That was scary question. It was scary because he knew the answer immediately, and he couldn’t do more then looked towards one of the gloved hands. It was something that he couldn’t control…just a small glance that gave away what he truly felt. That yes, the thing that came from his hand had caused all of this. But it wasn’t his father’s fault. It was Michael’s own fault. And this was a police officer…he’d arrest Michael and take away his leggo and his bear.

Michael shivered a bit and his nails dug into the bear through the gloves that hid them. Fear radiated through him, but there wasn’t any way that he could just not tell the truth. This was the game. The game was that they would trade questions. And Michel would play the game because the game was constant. There was no getting around it. He took a deep breath and slowly spoke. “D-daddy said…daddy said that he had to. He had to...to put me in my room.” He was shaking a bit again, and Michael looked around for something to hide behind.

He seemed to all of the sudden become territorial and move his things towards him. He didn’t want them to be taken from him. Even the leggo they were doing he moved towards himself. “Didn’t…didn’t mean to but my…my weird part of me h-hurt…hurt…” He bit down on his lip, mumbling as he slightly pressed himself against the nearby bed, to hide himself a little more. “Th-there was a kid. A-and…he…he didn’t…he hurt me but I-I’m little…and-and then his back.” He wasn’t really able to find the right words, but trailed off, momentarily stunned by fear that he would be arrested. He had even forgotten it was his turn in the game to ask a question.

His question had struck a nerve. Michael seemed to be taking it hard as he wracked his brain looking for his voice. Jorge knew that the boy was not going to resist answering his question, after all, that was the rule of the game and if there was anything that the boy seemed intent on it was following the rules. So the detective remained patient and silent, simply watching as the young boy attempted to find some solace in his surroundings.

It was at that moment that he viewed the boy’s discomfort that the detective truly felt bad for everything that he had gone through. It was apparent that he had suffered a lot and the worst part was that he was not loosening the blame that he lashed too himself. He was blaming himself for his father’s shortcomings as both a father and a human being. His father was a monster for putting his son through these atrocities but it was done in such a way that Mikey couldn’t even blame him. He blamed himself for everything and that was a denial that Jorge simply could not break through.

He prayed for the boy; he prayed he would find hope and solace.

>> “D-daddy said…daddy said that he had to. He had to...to put me in my room.”

Jorge closed his eyes a bit angrily. Not at Mikey, of course, but at the boy’s father. He wanted just five minutes alone with him in a room in which the Jorge was not a police officer. Just five minutes and he could teach him a lesson that he could never forget.

But the detective kept his composure as he listened, still not trying to make eye contact with Michael as the boy huddled himself into a corner and pulled nearly every toy and item he loved close to him. Jorge began to wonder at this behavior. Did he imagine that all these things would be stolen? And if so, by who? Jorge was not going to take anything but who knows what Michael thought after everything he had gone through.

>> “Didn’t…didn’t mean to but my…my weird part of me h-hurt…hurt…Th-there was a kid. A-and…he…he didn’t…he hurt me but I-I’m little…and-and then his back.”

Jorge wanted to comfort the boy. To give him a hug and tell him that it was okay, but he knew that he couldn’t. Not only was it not proper but judging by Michael’s reactions, he probably would not have taken any comfort from it. So the detective instead remained in his spot, not want to startle the boy by moving suddenly or stepping out of his line of vision. Instead, the detective remained seated as he lowered his gaze to the teddy bear; the only line of defense between Michael and the world.

“Shhhhh,” Jorge attempted to whisper as calmly and comforting as possible. Maybe if he sounded and remained calm, Michael would at least be able to draw that from him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about that,” Jorge said as he continued making his mental notes. “Accidents happen…” he said, “Especially…with people like us.”

Maybe he could connect with the boy on the level that they were both mutants. That seemed to be his only course of action now…

Hope. There was hope filling the room as Michael looked up towards Jorge with a wide-eyed face. Of course, it was only for a second, and then he looked down again. He was put into a situation of shock…alarm? No. It was definitely a sense of realization. He was seeing Jorge as a person. Not as a big man that was like his father, but as a person who had never been mean to him. Michael was actually comfortable near this male. And that was…that was big. He looked up just a little bit again at Jorge.

The biggest thing that really separated them was that Michael’s dad did nothing but persecute him for doing that one thing…for that one thing. Sure, he still didn’t think that his father was wrong. Jorge hadn’t seen what Michael had done…he made a kid’s jacket blow up on his back. It literally blew up…and if it was a larger piece of his hand, it could have been a lot worse than the horrible burns. Michael shifted a bit and he moved slightly closer to Jorge, though he wasn’t yet smiling, he was relieved. “Y…You’re not…n-not taking my things…a-and..and arresting me?”

The game for once, was left behind, which might explain why he seemed a bit nervous. Although, another reason would probably be because he was fiddling with a glove, toying with it even. Whether he was trying to make a decision to get it off, or fiddling again, he seemed to be immersed in some kind of turmoil. He didn’t want Jorge to recoil in disgust. He knew that this was a school for mutants…and…there was a green guy out there, so…so it only made sense, right? He bit down on his lip and then shifted where he was, moving just a tiny…tiny bit closer. He still held that bear.

As Jorge had so aptly thought, Michael really did use the bear to protect himself. It stood between pain and hurting things, because Michael couldn’t. Because no matter how hard he tried, Michael always got hurt, but the bear never did. So, the bear was stronger than him. Lots of things were stronger than him, but he didn’t get a chance to know them, or emulate them like his “Man’s best friend.” That was currently in his arms. He leaned down and bit it’s ear just slightly as he thought about what he wanted to say. He knew that he wanted to talk about mutations, because he was pretty sure now that this guy had one, but he also didn’t want to talk anymore.

Michael was more calm now, he wasn’t shaking as much, and he seemed to be calm with Jorge, so he would actually be more relaxed and more willing to talk, he just didn’t want to talk. Michael moved his Leggo out in front of him, and he slowly made sure it was all taken apart, and he began to build a square house. He was being careful to build it in the same exact pattern as before. Michael had just made a very very big step in trusting Jorge. His fear of being arrested pretty much gone. His father hadn’t drilled him as much on being afraid of police officers, so he was calmer. But that was because he’d distracted himself. Now he was back in the world of leggo.

Jorge waited. He did not want to push Michael or shock him with displays of power or anything of that nature. Instead the burly looking detective just sat calmly on the floor and waited for Michael to take the next step in how this meeting was going to go. He had plenty of information to use against the boy’s father and it would definitely be enough to keep him here at the mansion instead of being sent back to that monster of a father. Michael would get all the love, attention, and care that he could handle at this school, which is a hell of a lot more than he ever received at his own home.

This boy was going to be safe here and Jorge was going to do absolutely everything in his power to make sure that things stayed that way. With all the trauma and pains that Michael went through, the least that he deserved now was for Jorge to fight as hard as he could to keep him away from his own home.

No, Michael would be a mansion student, he would make sure of it.

He watched as Michael looked up, suddenly looking relieved, as if Jorge had said something that not only caught the boy off guard, but calmed him down immensely.

>> “Y…You’re not…n-not taking my things…a-and..and arresting me?”

Jorge smiled tenderly. Deep down, his heart hurt upon hearing that that was Michael’s first thought about what was going to happen. What had his father done to him to drill such thoughts into his head? It was madness. But, the smile never faltered as he shook his head in response.

“No,” he proclaimed. “I’m not arresting you. I want you to stay here in the mansion. I want you to be happy.”

But he said nothing more after that. Instead, sensing that they game had wound down to an end, he watched as Michael wriggled closer to him and began to take apart some of his leggos. Slowly he started to rebuild them, though, following a pattern that Jorge was slowly beginning to make sense of.

He didn’t bother Michael, but instead watched as he played. He helped out where he could, offering leggos whenever they were out of Michael’s reach, and even helped with the building process whenever Mikey allowed him to. It was fun, to say the least. He would stay with the boy, play side by side with him until he was ready for Jorge to leave. Once that happened, he was submit his report and get the wheels turning to keep Michael here.

And come hell or highwater, he would accomplish it.